tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32023049356169323032024-03-14T00:52:10.757-07:00Kendall's TG CaptionsKendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.comBlogger319125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-65886450943510256042017-01-31T00:40:00.000-08:002017-01-31T00:40:07.502-08:00All According to Plan (for Simone)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Transcript: </div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh it’s you. Where’s your mother?” Crispin remarked
dismissively, embarrassed at his romantic doorway pose and retracting the fresh
bouquet of Casa Blanca lilies. His aristocratic accent had a way of making him sound
rather condescending despite his polite smile. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She’s still getting ready,” Mark mumbled, not making eye
contact. “She said to tell you she’s sorry for running late, but she got a little
tied up.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Crispin allowed Mark to offer him a seat and accepted a glass
of a Sauvignon Blanc. The boy was nice enough, but it’d never made sense to him
how a scrawny, plain boy—drab oversized t-shirt and baggy sweatpants not
helping—could be the progeny of a woman as lovely as Naomi Delacroix. Not that
it ultimately mattered. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Back upstairs, Mark locked the door to his mother’s bedroom
and collapsed in a skittish sigh. After a few moments, Mark arose with a powerful,
mature confidence that was strangely incongruous from his character. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Just like a man to come to early and ruin all the fun,”
Mark remarked casually as he resumed preparations. His mother Naomi laid bound
and gagged on her own bed. The muscle relaxant he had injected her with was
probably overkill, but better safe than sorry. Though her mouth could not
respond, Naomi’s eyes still conveyed her abashed confusion.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ve been planning this for a long time,” Mark explained as
his hands resumed peeling the dress off of his mother’s limp limbs. “Perhaps if
you hadn’t always been too busy with a new boy toy every other week, you’d have
realized I was always jealous of you: your luxurious wardrobe, your sensual femininity,
your bewitching face and figure that made it oh so easy to get whatever you
wanted…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mark’s lips spread into a devious grin, “I knew I always wanted
to be like you, but then I realized: why not just <i>be </i>you? So I watched and I learned: the sashay of your hips, the nuances
of your charm, the sweetness of your laugh.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The practiced ease of feminine grace glistened as Mark
lovingly laid aside his mother’s necklace, earrings, and dress. Mark fluently folded
the latter in precisely the same way she would have; he had learned how long
ago. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“This I practiced too,” Mark smiled, suddenly shifting to a
pleasant, female pattern of speech that seemed strangely at odds with his
wicked intentions. His well-trained voice effortlessly matched his mother’s
sultry inflection, though not quite her soprano timbre. “You know, no one would
even bat an eye if I told them my voice was a tad huskier than usual because I
took one a little too deep, but…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The mist that sprayed out of the innocuous-looking inhaler
lifted Mark’s pitch into an angelic lilt. “There, much better. Now I sound more
like ‘myself’, don’t I?” Mark laughed at seeing his mother’s eyes go wide; hearing
her own voice come out of <i>his</i> mouth
was just the beginning. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The reason for Mark’s loose-fitting clothes was immediately
apparent as he tossed them aside. His waist was even narrower than his skinny
appearance would’ve suggested, and at the top of his shapely, skyscraper-long
legs were hips and a derriere that swelled far too luxuriously for any boy, or
any girl his age! And unlike the other boys, his body was supple and lithe with
creamy curves, except for his tummy, which was taut and flat. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A small moan escaped Mark’s lips as he removed the strong,
compression bandage around his chest, freeing two perfectly hemispherical,
succulent breasts. “Extra strength estrogen cream, every night before bed.
Wondrous aren’t they?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mark’s hands looked dainty as he cupped his breasts. They
were plush, pert, and ripe. “Oh don’t look so surprised! You of all people
should know the <i>women</i> in our family
are very well endowed! They were actually even bigger before I had them
surgically reduced to exactly your size!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh yes, this body is all natural, hormone injections still depend
on Mother Nature!” Mark giggled, twirling to showoff his unmistakably feminine
figure. “Well mostly, I had to have a little adjustment work done to become
your identical twin, but now I’m a 36D-22-36, same as you. I’m also exactly
5’7” and three quarters as listed on your Ashley Madison profile, and a size
eight women’s shoe, just like all the heels in your closet. Perfectly identical
in every way, except this…” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mark pouted as he pulled down his briefs, letting his
unshaved semi-erect cock and balls dangle unseemingly, a strange juxtaposition
to his womanly silhouette. “I realized fairly early on that as much as I could act
like you, sound like you, and even look like you, I could still never fully be
you, not as long as I still had this between my legs, which is why...”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Prying at the base of his cock, Mark shocked his mother as
his male genitalia, with dark merkin attached, suddenly popped free and was
discarded by the bed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Surprise! I’ve been sitting like a lady in the bathroom for
a few months now,” Mark announced proudly. The now exposed familiar pink lips
of a woman’s pussy lay embellished by a neatly groomed blonde strip, identical
to his mother’s. Each individual hair had been painstakingly bleached. His
mother was a natural blonde; he was not. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m so glad you enjoy sending nudes. It wasn’t hard to
procure the photos to show the plastic surgeons exactly what I wanted ‘my
pussy’ to look like,” Mark explained. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To prove <i>her</i>
female sex was real and fully functional, Mark smugly guided the tip of her old
male prosthetic to the edge and gasped slightly as the entire shaft slipped easily
deep inside. “Oh yes, fuck that feels so good. I can’t wait for real thing.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mark grinned wickedly as she mimicked a few of her mother’s
passionate moans, whimpers, and squeals, building up to an Oscar worthy orgasm that
would’ve convinced any man that he had the sexual prowess of a demigod. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mark shivered her hand grazed her swollen, sensitive clit.
“The doctors in Beverly Hills really are phenomenal—the best money can buy. That’s
where I actually was that summer I spent ‘abroad in Europe’, putting the trust fund
father left me towards getting my M.R.S. instead. Did you know they were even
able to transplant a womb inside me? And remember those eggs you had frozen? I
had them put those inside me too. You know what that means? I’m just as fertile
as you were when you had your eggs collected at eighteen; I could get pregnant
just thinking about sex!” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Between her full breasts and ass, Mark cradled an imaginary swollen
belly. “And with the right man, I could bear him your—excuse me, <i>my</i> children, nurse them at <i>my</i> own breasts, and raise them as <i>my</i> own.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mark’s lashes fluttered innocently, a sweet maternal smile
across her face. “Crispin and I could make beautiful children together, don’t
you think? Imagine, little bundles of joy with <i>my </i>nose,<i> my </i>chin, <i>my </i>eyes. I could be you in every way,
and nobody would ever know.” The horrified expression on her Naomi’s face was
all the approval Mark needed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Speaking of <i>my</i> nose,
chin, and eyes, I dare say I’ve saved the best for last, ” Mark declared
gleefully. Using a large makeup sponge, Mark deftly smeared her face and front
of the neck with a clear thin liquid. Within seconds, the outlines of several
prosthetic pieces appeared. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Everyone always said I took after you, so the doctors
didn’t have to do much, just subtle enhancements here and there.” Mark’s Adam’s
apple peeled off like a sticker. The large nosepiece was the next to go,
followed by the protuberant brow bone, square chin pieces, and light patches of
facial hair. With his boyish costume removed, all that was left behind were striking
high cheekbones, voluminous lips, and a petite chin and nose. “You wouldn’t
believe what a hassle it was to wear this everyday to keep everyone from
finding out. But now, this pretty face is <i>all
mine</i>.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Seeing her own face on another body sent a numbing terror
pervading through Naomi’s body. Her son even had her striking, olive-green eyes
now, thanks to colored contacts. Not to mention his well-practiced facial
expressions and coy, mature demeanor, which were an uncannily impeccable
mimicry of her own. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mark’s short brown hair also came off with a slight tug. Soft
shoulder-length blonde hair tumbled free, dyed blonde to the root, just like her
bush down below. “It’s taken a bit longer than I expected to grow my own hair
out, but until then…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The long, glistening, blonde wig Mark gingerly unpackaged
from its box was already perfectly styled to match her mother’s golden mane. “I
had it specially made with real human hair, <i>your</i>
hair.” Mark ran her immaculately manicured nails lovingly through the silky
tresses. “Remember how I convinced you to start donating your hair to a good
cause? Well this is it.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Satisfied that the extra strength adhesive had set, Mark
gave the monofilament wig a strong tug, and let the long blonde waves cascade gently
over her slender shoulders. Even without additional touch ups, her hair already
looked so gorgeous and alive. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sitting down at her mother’s vanity, Mark skillfully went to
work with her familiar tools—foundation, blush, mascara, eyeliner, lip
gloss—applying each in the exact order and manner which her mother had done
just this morning. Every brush, pat, and stroke, just like she’d obsessively watched
and religiously practiced. Her face complete, Mark finished preening with two
dabs behind the ears of her mother’s signature Estee Lauder perfume. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“For a thirty-five year old woman, you still have exquisite
taste,” Mark admired, as she slid Naomi’s lacy, silk thong down her mother’s smooth
legs and up her own. The delicate fabric nestled flat and snug against her
crotch. Mark deftly removed Naomi’s matching demi-bra next, and easily
re-hooked the clasp behind her back like she’d been doing it all her life. The extravagant,
custom-tailored, chiffon gown was still warm as Mark zipped up the back. It
certainly hugged every inch of her bodacious figure and flattered all of her best
assets. And like Cinderella’s glass slipper, her mother’s strappy heels were
also a perfect fit. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Despite herself, Naomi couldn’t help but marvel at the way
her son floated gracefully across the room in her heels, leading naturally with
pendulant hips, and causing his other assets to jiggle ever so slightly in just
the most feminine manner. It was almost like an out of body experience, watching
herself—the same display of artistry in getting dolled up, the same graceful
sensuality in every touch, the same carnal excitement of a woman in heat. She
knew that look on Mark’s face—her own face; it was one she had worn many times
before a date as she primped in the mirror, entertaining lascivious, perverse
thoughts. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hello, <i>I’m</i> Naomi
Delacroix,” ‘Naomi’ purred in her mother’s most alluring voice as she struck a
pose that managed to be both provocative and elegant. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So dear—I can call you that now can’t I? Mother just seems
no longer appropriate. I mean, we’re essentially sisters, <i>identical</i> <i>twin </i>sisters,
now after all.” From her good looks, to her bitchy personality, to her ability
to perform and function as a woman, there was nothing Naomi could do that her
former son couldn’t. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m afraid there can only be one me. We wouldn’t want
Crispin to mistake <i>you</i> for the woman
he loves, now would we?” ‘Naomi’ purred cattily. Gathering her old clothes,
bandages, and prosthetics, ‘Naomi’ prepared to perform the unveiling process in
reverse. Only this time the glue wouldn’t be temporary. ‘Naomi’ snickered
impishly, “Don’t worry, this won’t hurt…much.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It took only a few minutes to finish her work. The limp,
lanky boy that lay on ‘her’ mother’s bed would not attract any unwanted
attention. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t worry, I’ll be good to Crispin tonight—dare I say…even
better than you? I’ve been reading your private diary, including all that steamy
adult stuff. I know exactly what Crispin likes in bed,” ‘Naomi’ whispered into
‘Mark’s’ ear. “I’m flexible enough for all his favorite positions, and then
some—I didn’t go to all those yoga classes for nothing.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And this ass,” ‘Naomi’ gave it a little shake, “so plump,
so luscious, so juicy, and you never let him use it. How many Louboutins do you
think I can milk him for if I say yes? I’ll ask him to be gentle, and whimper
that it’s my first time, but between you and me, I’m a fucking pro. How else do
you think I stole the head cheerleader’s boyfriend senior year of high school?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Naomi’ smiled as she tucked ‘her son’ into bed and
sauntered towards the door. “Though once Crispin has been inside my pussy, he
won’t ever want anything else. I’m creamy as dream, and I am and always will be
tighter than a virgin. Don’t bother feeling like you have to get back to ‘your
room’ before the end of the night. I’m sure I won’t be home for a while. Tata!”
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Naomi’ glanced at her makeup in the mirror on her way out
though she knew it was still perfect; she just enjoyed seeing her pretty face.
It was no wonder why she had strong, handsome men fawning over her like
lovesick schoolboys. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Downstairs, Crispin was checking at his watch for the
hundredth time. They were going to be late. And suddenly that was perfectly
fine with him as he saw ‘Naomi’ descending gracefully down the steps. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You’re staring,” ‘Naomi’ said softly, as she shyly tucked
an errant strand of hair back in place. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You look absolutely stunning,” Crispin said after a moment,
suddenly snapping back to reality. His hands slid down her back and over her
luscious derriere as he brought her in close for a hug and a kiss. “Tonight
especially.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Aww, thanks babe. You’re not so bad yourself!” ‘Naomi’
replied, giving him another kiss, though she was mostly referring to the
gargantuan erection that was growing larger by the minute rubbing up against
her. ‘Naomi’ was definitely not disappointed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few minutes later, the slam of the car door and buzz of
the engine faded to silence. It had certainly took them long enough to get out
the door. Mark’s mother hummed casually as she gingerly peeled off her son’s
disguise, dissolving the adhesive with a special spray. She was going to really
need a long bath after this; thank goodness she would have the house to herself
for long while. Her son wasn’t the only talented actress in the family; she had
replaced the illegally acquired syringes with harmless copies of isotonic
saline months ago. The hypnotic tapes Naomi had played in Mark’s room at night
and subliminal messages she had embedded into his iPod had worked like a dream.
Not even she could’ve imagined these kinds of results. Oh, her son had always
been somewhat effeminate—she couldn’t take credit for that—but turning him into
her double? That was all part of the plan. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
From a locked compartment within her jewelry box, Naomi
pulled out a simple disposable phone and dialed a number she had memorized long
ago. It ran exactly eight times before the other side answered. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<!--EndFragment--></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s time,” Naomi stated nonchalantly. “You know what to do.”</div>
<br />Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-76811387222243396122017-01-22T01:24:00.000-08:002017-01-22T01:24:09.146-08:00Spoiled Appetites (for Simone)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rJ0xi445LWk/WIR5KqrTMOI/AAAAAAAACXI/gbf6V6eu1Ws430jgtEJySWBzEUBgErzQgCLcB/s1600/321_Spoiled_Appetites_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rJ0xi445LWk/WIR5KqrTMOI/AAAAAAAACXI/gbf6V6eu1Ws430jgtEJySWBzEUBgErzQgCLcB/s320/321_Spoiled_Appetites_1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9QS1wHXEJvA/WIR5KgjkeWI/AAAAAAAACXA/4nVPdSA4KaEORQ6o6V28MPAwfGih6bSsgCLcB/s1600/321_Spoiled_Appetites_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9QS1wHXEJvA/WIR5KgjkeWI/AAAAAAAACXA/4nVPdSA4KaEORQ6o6V28MPAwfGih6bSsgCLcB/s320/321_Spoiled_Appetites_2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DUTclJKTgQU/WIR5KhjV4kI/AAAAAAAACXE/NgpXjVzi02wgCMDW-AlQEnBIunXsbPe4QCLcB/s1600/321_Spoiled_Appetites_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DUTclJKTgQU/WIR5KhjV4kI/AAAAAAAACXE/NgpXjVzi02wgCMDW-AlQEnBIunXsbPe4QCLcB/s320/321_Spoiled_Appetites_3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<a name='more'></a><div style="text-align: left;">
Transcript: </div>
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<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
“¡<em><span style="font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Ay Dios</span></em><i> mío<em><span style="font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">!</span></em></i>
Out, out!” Simone exclaimed in a perfect feign of surprise, sternly disrupting
the lovers tryst. Her fiery flurry sent the hunky Italian waiter, who was obviously
flushed despite his deep olive complexion, scurrying out of the small, hotel lobby
lounge in a fluster. Recapping her lipstick, Simone clicked the miniature
camera off and safely tucked it back inside her purse. <span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Now where were we, <i>Mrs.
Perdue</i>?” Simone playfully questioned her smiling partner in crime, as they found
themselves once again alone in the quiet, luxurious lounge, adjacent to one of
New York’s swankiest Italian restaurants. Her accomplice Kendall had been posing
as the demure Georgia senator’s wife, Caroline Perdue, for the last few days
and the footage they had just created was sure to prove more than profitable next
election season. Though nothing too scandalous had actually happened, Kendall’s
convincing moans and Simone’s clever camera angles would make anyone else
believe that it had. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You didn’t let me finish!” Kendall pouted daintily with the
decorum of a proper Southern lady. “And to think how juicy that Italian sausage
looked...” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“¿Y qué? Let you spoil your appetite? ¡<span class="megaexamples-highlight">Estás loca!</span>” Simone purred with a zest, subtly
rolling her consonants and elongating her vowels. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The succulent accent of Novatech CEO’s Colombian mistress, Naomi
Cristina Diaz-Granados, was a drastic difference from the posh, East Hampton flair
of the CEO’s blonde-haired, blue-eyed, trophy wife Vanessa Stevens, and a
testament to Simone’s talented range as an actress. So convincing was Simone in
her roles, her genius ‘husband’ had no clue that the sweet lips of his wife
that had kissed him goodbye, were the very same ones that had greeted him passionately
at the airport just hours later as his mistress! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Simone had even managed to keep up Vanessa’s torrid affair
with the neighbor’s, pro-baseball player son! Not all the lingerie in Vanessa’s
drawers had been bought with her husband’s money!<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Your ‘husband’ y mi ‘novio’ probably are wondering what’s
taking us so long,” Simone purred between kisses, every word oozing honey, “but
they can wait <span class="megaexamples-highlight">un poco más</span>, sí? They’re
probably still discussing that boring government contract anyways.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Is that right? Well—”. Simone’s assertive lips interrupted Kendall’s
playful pretense, pinning the demure housewife up against the wall with her voluptuously
enhanced, womanly figure. Even up close, it was impossible to discern that
Simone’s luxurious body wasn’t <i>au
naturale, </i>or that she, like her accomplice, wasn't even female! Years of crafting experience, combined with the latest in
synthetic biomedical polymers, had yielded masks and bodysuits as supple and
warm as a real woman’s flesh, and as lifelike as the models—both willing and
unwilling—that had been used to make them. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Simone toyed with her lover patiently as their bodies danced
to a tantric tango—a staccato of impassioned moans and erotic crescendos. “Such
a naughty lady you are Mrs. Perdue, me vuelves loca,” Simone whispered as she
slyly cranked the dial on her ring to the highest setting. The buzz of the ornate
plug in Kendall’s ass and vibrators in her suit were palpable from ten feet
away. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Simone just giggled as Kendall squealed and nearly
collapsed, her legs quivering like jelly. Simone knew she was close; she had
been toying with Kendall all evening from across the dinner table. Simone
stroked Kendall’s hard-on lightly through her suit, “You may look like a proper,
faithful wife, but we both that beneath your conservative peplum dress, your
ass is still dripping with the present I gave you earlier.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Good heavens, you’re gonna make me make a mess in my suit!”
Kendall moaned. Her hips ground desperately against Simone’s deceptively soft,
womanly mound, causing Simone to take in a few sharp breaths of her own.
Kendall’s nails suddenly dug into Simone’s back, as Kendall’s toes curled and a
stream of climactic screams weren’t the only things that came gushing out. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Buena mamacita,” Simone whispered when it was all over, as
she played with Kendall’s hair. It was something Simone knew Kendall secretly
enjoyed. “I want you to return to your ‘husband’ all warm and sticky on the
inside.” Simone’s hands rubbed and squeezed Kendall’s bodysuit’s secret sheath,
massaging the hot cream trapped within. “When he takes you home, I want you to be
already satisfied as he tries to turn you on—to be already dripping wet and
oozing creamy pussy juice as he licks your clit. He won’t realize he’s actually
tasting your cum.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Bless your heart, I’m not satisfied yet!” Kendall corrected
coquettishly. Kendall dropped slowly to her knees, and when Simone didn’t
disapprove, plunged her whole hand deep between Simone’s tight wet folds. A few
seconds later, Kendall found what she was looking for and Simone’s impressive,
engorged gift emerged with a dramatic pop. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My turn to return the favor,” Kendall declared as she
swallowed Simone’s gift whole. Simone spewed out a mix of moans and
encouragements, as she pushed Kendall’s eager mouth all the way down. Despite
Simone’s enormous size, Kendall didn’t gag as Simone slid smoothly over her tongue
and hit the back of her throat. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You know what I love that’s the same about cannoli and your
cock?” Kendall teased slyly between sucks, still managing to sound like a
proper Southern lady despite talking with her mouth full. “They’re both filled with
cream, and I’m fixin’ to suck out every last drop!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It didn’t take long before Simone could no longer contain
herself and unleashed ribbons of warm, gooey cream all over Kendall’s innocent
face, ruining her carefully polished mascara and eye shadow. Kendall rubbed her
reward deep into her skin like moisturizer and stared into Simone’s gaze
contentedly. “I love the way your sweet cream tastes. <i>Now</i> I’m satisfied,” Kendall giggled, licking her lips as she felt
Simone’s gift rouse within her hand once more. “But I always have room for
seconds!” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A short while later, the two ladies, their dresses crisp and
makeup unsmeared—wholly engaged in an enthralling discussion about chicken
casserole—rejoined their husband and boyfriend at the table. ‘Naomi’ coiled around
her lover like a lynx, while her delicate hands found their way into his lap, instantaneously
distracting him from whatever sensitive negotiations had been ongoing. Senator
Perdue seized the interruption to kiss ‘his wife’, “I love that scent on you, dear, expensive no doubt.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m glad you approve, dear. It was a present from Naomi, such a sweetheart.” Kendall replied, coying smiling at Simone. Sweet cream indeed, if only her ‘husband’ knew what it really was! And now she had an excuse to wear it as often as she could!</div>
<br />Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-43325110524216517862016-05-15T16:56:00.000-07:002016-05-15T16:56:01.978-07:00Tricky Business (EXPLICIT VIDEO CAP)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzlg7uRIJiKTtuT0q8dHJUvLPG5Mf0SuRcUmoSKXm-ax8kQizHb29BTq051W31j77R-612_TZnzzzlxm3b8wQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-61846589978910513792016-02-23T19:30:00.001-08:002016-02-23T19:30:59.039-08:00The Haven's Next Top Model (Haven March Contest Entree)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W4qMvyVH5gE/Vs0isV8IDwI/AAAAAAAACQY/D_UIbf3UuGY/s1600/320_Havens_Next_Top_Model.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W4qMvyVH5gE/Vs0isV8IDwI/AAAAAAAACQY/D_UIbf3UuGY/s320/320_Havens_Next_Top_Model.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a name='more'></a>I made this caption for the March Caption Contest over on Rachel's Haven. When I saw the theme for this month, this idea nearly popped instantly in my head, but it wasn't until I started looking for the perfect picture that things really started to develop. I decided to make it look like a magazine spread instead of going with the traditional caption look and I'm very proud of how it turned out. Save for the pictures and top model logo, everything else is all original design and work!Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-72597918525248074492016-02-21T12:30:00.001-08:002016-02-21T12:30:24.476-08:00Copy of the Countess (for Sammie)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A5axLrDc55c/VsocH3E3VeI/AAAAAAAACOk/0GWavCik9lg/s1600/318_Copy_of_the_Countess_GIF.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="205" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A5axLrDc55c/VsocH3E3VeI/AAAAAAAACOk/0GWavCik9lg/s320/318_Copy_of_the_Countess_GIF.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a name='more'></a>Ok, let me just say that this is a long over due capback for Sammie. I try and glance over her preferences every now and then in hopes that inspiration will strike, but it usually doesn't.<br />
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Luckily, Sammie and I have a lot of similar tastes: disguises, impersonation, crossdressing, feminine charms and guiles, redheads, and last but not least, old Hollywood glamour. So while perusing through her list of leading ladies she'd enjoy being, I came across the above GIF of Eleanor Parker. It captivated my attention, but it wasn't until a few days later when I was working out that the entire story came to me. It took another several days before I finally had time to pen it down, and then another few before I had the time to assemble it all together.<br />
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Something I'm particularly proud of in this caption is the color image below the animation. Believe it or not, the original image is actually black and white. The color was added digitally by yours truly. This is the first time I've done anything like it, so I'm pretty excited about that!<br />
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TRANSCRIPT:<br />
Countess Christine Hennessey has never looked better if I do say so myself, Nate thought smugly, admiring his fully transformed reflection—a perfect impersonation. No one would ever guess what true indelicate features lay concealed beneath the pounds of practically professionally applied makeup and medical grade latex.<br />
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Even the Countess’ beauty mark smiled high from the angle of her left cheek, precisely where it belonged. The Countess‘ other slight bodily imperfections had also been replicated with equal faith. Quite a shame really, given that Nate knew exactly how to fix them.<br />
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It was just as well however, given that all the Countess’ garments, including the fabulous gown Nate would be wearing this evening, were custom-tailored and would thus only fit the Countess’ exact 36B-26-36 measurements. Something Nate had disappointingly discovered when the first pair of breast forms he had chosen proved too extravagant for her dainty lingerie.<br />
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The dress was still warm as Nate slid into the emerald silk cocoon, freshly pilfered from the Countess’ body, which lay sedated next to him. Her scent immediately enveloped him, masking and becoming his, as he zipped up the back. A few spritz of the perfume found in her clutch however were added just for good measure. In the background, Nate could hear the rhythmic pumps of the chloroform ventilator working, ensuring that the real Countess wouldn’t miss any of her things until Nate no longer had use for them.<br />
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From across the room, Nate caught the eyes Floyd Benton, his client, trying not to stare, but doing so rather conspicuously. Floyd straightened up as soon as he realized he’d been noticed. “Are you sure no one will know you’re not her?”<br />
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“Relax, I’m a professional,” Nate replied in a voice that was distinctly the Countess’, complete with the occasional trace of a Newcastle twang. Though her soprano pitch was slightly beyond his range, he’d still managed to master her timbre with the help of a special throat spray that constricted his vocal cords. Nate, now completely in character, glanced over his shoulder at Floyd and lowered his chin demurely.<br />
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Save for the brief uptick of his brow, Floyd’s face remained expressionless, but Nate could tell Floyd had completely bought into the disguise by the large growing bulge at his crotch. And to think, all it had taken was a toss of her hair and a few bats of her thick fake lashes.<br />
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“Just make sure that the Count doesn’t suspect a thing, and the job gets done.”<br />
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“Don’t worry,” Nate cooed knowingly in Countess Hennessy’s voice, sashaying towards the door. “I always guarantee client satisfaction. I’ll make sure you get what you want by the end of the night, one way or another…”<br />
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Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-15896294573404198992015-08-03T17:25:00.000-07:002015-08-03T17:25:36.061-07:00Table for Two (for Simone)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eK6OxIZ9tHM/VcAAOyGvqRI/AAAAAAAACN4/C4mP1HF0XNw/s1600/315_Table_for_Two_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eK6OxIZ9tHM/VcAAOyGvqRI/AAAAAAAACN4/C4mP1HF0XNw/s320/315_Table_for_Two_1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_S2IqOzZ85w/VcAAOkFCUJI/AAAAAAAACN0/I2eSjAnrSWk/s1600/315_Table_for_Two_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_S2IqOzZ85w/VcAAOkFCUJI/AAAAAAAACN0/I2eSjAnrSWk/s320/315_Table_for_Two_2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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“Damn it Simone, you’re a naughty minx. Not wearing any panties tonight, you knew we were going to a classy joint too!” Evan’s tone was only appreciatively accusatory as he eyed Simone’s body ravenously. “I never would’ve suspected though, even as tight as your Dior dress is, and I know how big you are.”<br />
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Simone smiled coyly. “Discipline,” Simone explained, though she could definitely feel her concealed girlie-cock beginning to stir as Evan’s fingers danced lower and lower down her exposed back.<br />
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“Do you know what you do to me, Simone?” Evan asked as he pulled her close. “We went to Melisse and I couldn’t even think about dinner! That bottle of 1919 Vouvray Moëlleux, ‘Le Haut Lieu’, G. Huet was $1150, but all I wanted to taste was you. The way you sat across the table like a proper lady, but secretly used your smooth pedicured feet to rub my thigh drove me crazy.”<br />
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Simone knew exactly what she could do and had done to Evan—and she loved it. The two had barely made it back to their luxe Beverly Hills Hotel room without incident. There was just something terribly delightful about watching Evan trying to restrain himself, with no help from her of course. She had even laced her perfume with powerful female sex pheromones to really send Evan’s virile libido into overdrive. Evan leaned in, lustful for a kiss, but Simone stopped him, holding his parted lips in place as she grabbed her signature cherry flavored lipstick and gave his lips a fresh coat. “I want you to have the taste of my lips on yours without actually having kissed me. Maybe if you're good, I'll give you what you want later.”<br />
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“Anyways,” Simone continued, “what I can’t believe is that you pretended to drop your fork just so you could sneak underneath the tablecloth and start toying with my girlie-cock! I had to confirm your complicated order to waiter with a straight face while you were sucking me off!”<br />
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Evan’s face formed into a devilish grin, “That was fun. I just couldn’t help but steal a taste before the appetizers.”<br />
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His fingers danced along the back of Simone’s spine like a wave, while his deep magnetic gaze made Simone feel like a beautiful desired woman. Simone might’ve been the one driving Evan crazy earlier, but now Evan was proving that he could also do the same. Composing loving caresses with rough passion, Evan was playing her body expertly like a rich symphony.<br />
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“You are absolutely gorgeous.” Evan’s tone was completely genuine. His hands lingered as he found Simone’s youthful and full breasts. “These are new, an upgrade?”<br />
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“You noticed.” Simone replied, pleased. Short of growing her own, the custom made prosthetic forms were the most realistic forms available. Even without concealer, the edges of the self-adhesive forms were impossible to detect. People could get up close and personal, even touch and fondle them, and no one would ever suspect she hadn’t been born without them.<br />
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The forms were also highly advanced, capable of detecting touch and then transmitting pleasurable pulses to the thousands of tiny electrodes attached to Simone’s skin. The nipples were especially sensitive, and Simone shivered and moaned as Evan gently traced small circles around her exposed breast. Simone relished in the pleasure for a few moments before remembering that she also had something else to show Evan. </div>
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“Do you know what else is new?” Simone asked coquettishly, looking up at Evan through a forest of lashes. Simone's gown slid gracefully over her luxurious hips and down to the floor, revealing a perfectly shaved and inviting pussy. Simone drew satisfaction from Evan’s wide-eyed mystification. “It might be a faux prosthetic too, but it’s completely functional,” Simone whispered temptingly into Evan's ear. “I put it on before dessert. You know when that cute redheaded waitress came by to flirt with you while I was in the bathroom? That was Kendall; she’s one of mine. I told her to keep you occupied. She was a little disappointed that you didn’t bite at her advances, but I knew you wouldn’t. You’re mine and I only share when I want to. Anyways, you got me so hot and bothered earlier that I had to get off in order to get this on.”</div>
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Fascination began to creep into Evan’s face as the revelation of what must’ve transpired dawned on him. “So you jerked yourself off in the prim and proper ladies room at Melisse? Kinky.”</div>
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“More or less, except Kendall came to visit and finish me off with her mouth—a little girl-girl time in the ladies room.” Simone grinned impishly. </div>
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“Damn, I bet that’s never happened before at Melisse.”</div>
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Simone just shrugged and giggled. “Oh, and you know how you said the cream in the molten chocolate cake tasted fresh? Well it was; it was mine. Dear Kendall thought it would’ve been a shame to waste any of it, so she brought a champagne glass for me to fill, then had the contents basted into yours.”</div>
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“Oh? I knew it tasted familiarly delicious.” Evan replied without missing a beat, then paused as his fingers found their way inside of Simone’s artificially pre-lubricated hole. “So, how about seconds?”</div>
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“So greedy,” Simone teased as she first drew his gaze to her supple breasts and slender midriff, then turned around to present her luscious bottom, long legs, and full hips. “How would you like it served?”</div>
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“I have to choose?” </div>
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“Not if you ask nicely,” Simone replied coyly. “You’re lucky you’re cute, but don’t think I’ll let you get your reward that easy. You’ll have to work for it.” </div>
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“Don’t worry, I have all night.”</div>
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“So do I.”</div>
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Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-39593733083377086132015-07-03T17:27:00.000-07:002015-07-03T17:27:03.879-07:00A Day at the Races (for Kelly)<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Derby Days are back, with a twist...</i></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l6CLMc2lyDg/VY73BAqOjsI/AAAAAAAACM0/vSMMzV-qCzY/s1600/314_A_Day_at_the_Races.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l6CLMc2lyDg/VY73BAqOjsI/AAAAAAAACM0/vSMMzV-qCzY/s320/314_A_Day_at_the_Races.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a name='more'></a>Transcript: “Ready to go!” Kevin called to his stepsister Melissa as he
buttoned up his shirt. He wanted to look nice and crisp for the Kentucky Derby,
even if he was going to only be standing in the infield. “What in the blazes?”<br />
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“Not in that you’re not,” Melissa replied with mock prissiness,
completely ignoring his question, as she descended down the stairs sporting a
fancy oversized hat, eye-catching red dress, and sky-high pumps. “What? A
little magical tailoring,” Melissa explained nonchalantly. “Now here, strip and
put these on.”</div>
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Kevin reflexively caught the slick pink bundle thrown at him
and the floppy wide-brimmed hat that followed. Before Kevin could protest,
Melissa gave him the no nonsense look he’d come to know. With a resigned sigh,
Kevin complied. Arguing wasn’t an option when your stepsister happened to be a
witch. </div>
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No sooner had the zipper in the back reached the top than
the magic take sudden dramatic effect. “I don’t know what crazy idea—” The dress
abruptly seemed awfully tight in all the wrong places—or the right ones
depending on your point of view. Kevin squealed in surprise, his pitch jumping
two octaves higher than the demure feminine tone it had already taken. </div>
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“Do you like it? An enchanted dress!” Melissa looked
absurdly pleased with herself. The freshly minted busty blonde bombshell on the
other hand was not the least bit amused. “Oh come on, it’s like Miss April just
stepped off of the centerfold. Besides, with those lovely assets spilling out
the top of your dress, you won’t have to bet on a horse to get millions. Just
think of the possibilities: the two of us invited to mingle in ‘Millionaire’s
Row’, sipping on mint juleps given to us by handsome admirers, while the
boys—and grandpas—all break their necks trying to sneak a peak at us! And if
the opportunity presents itself, I think you’ll find those soft plump lips of
yours can be used for more than just cheering. Wicked isn’t it, Kelly? Oh,
that’s what I’ve decided to call you by the way.”</div>
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Kelly found her new body responding favorably to the
suggestion. “Is it too late to just go for a pony ride?” Kelly replied wryly,
noting with mild surprise that she’d also acquired a honey-dripping Southern
drawl, which made her voice sound innocently flirtatious. </div>
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“Oh you’ll be riding much more than ponies today!” Melissa
teased playfully. “It’s time you stop betting on the geldings and find a real
stallion who can finish. And if all goes according to plan, well let’s just say
the horses won’t be the only ones who might’ve been rode hard and put back
wet…”</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-89835949665981103812015-06-26T12:13:00.001-07:002015-06-26T12:15:49.037-07:00The Datebook (for Simone)<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>A Friday night ritual...</i></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4PNL_XtR09E/VY2jcwll-qI/AAAAAAAACMg/F12yJnHEms8/s1600/313_The_Datebook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4PNL_XtR09E/VY2jcwll-qI/AAAAAAAACMg/F12yJnHEms8/s320/313_The_Datebook.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a name='more'></a>So I'd been intending to make something for Simone for awhile (since about January actually), however I've also been struggling a lot with the creative process. But with summer here, I decided I had no excuse and sat myself down to drag a cap out of me. More or less it worked. Overall, I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out, as it's been a long time since I've written anything. The last cap I wrote was probably around September (I time release stuff here on my blog, or let it sit until I'm happy with it), so it definitely dusted off a lot of cobwebs in my brain!<br />
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Transcript: A refreshing hint of fresh lilies—from the delicate dab of Joy Parfume by Jean Patou she’d rubbed behind her ears earlier—stroked Simone’s senses as she swept her silky locks out of the way. Casual as it was, the coordinated swing of her neck was majestic nonetheless. Transforming herself physically into a goddess naturally made her to act like one too.<br />
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After hours of preparation, Simone was near ready to make her Friday night debut, the perfect way to unwind after a long workweek. Shedding Mark’s crisp suit and tie as soon as she got home, Simone had spent extra time in the bath today with her favorite Epsom salts to put her in the mood, letting Mark’s dreary old day dissolve away as Simone’s took form. The multitude of film grade prosthetics had been tedious to apply, but one couldn’t argue with the dramatic results. Just a touch of liquid foundation, and an opaque powder to set it, effectively concealed any edges, making her voluptuous figure appear au naturale—and along with a few other tricks, completely feminine from head to toe. Her non-stretchy satin panty was innocuously dainty, but also performed double duty as a strong gaff to ensure her feminine illusion would remain unblemished, should the evening become a tad…exciting.<br />
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Selecting the bra and panties set from her extensive collection had been taken the better part of the last hour. You never knew who might see them before the end of the night after all! Simone’s eventual choice, the luxurious black satin pair she was currently wearing, was a present from one of her many suitors, Petro if she recalled correctly. Ah yes, the long hot summer nights she’d spent in his coastal Mediterranean villa, those had been fun. Simone made a mental note to return one of Petro’s persistent calls in the near future.<br />
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Now to decide: a classic black little number from Armani that oozed appeal or a flirty crimson dress from Versace that was both elegant and sexy? Both were new additions to her closet—thoughtful presents from different admirers. Not that it mattered much, regardless of her choice in wardrobe, Simone would soon be swimming amidst a sea of suitors and plethora of drinks. That Simone was sure of. Even with a handsome man around her arm, her radiant presence alone was enough to draw the desiring gaze and fumbling service of any male within a three-mile radius. <br />
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Now who was it again tonight? Simone thumbed through the pages of her leather bound datebook, which in her case literally was a date book. How else was she supposed to keep track of her line of suitors three months in advance? Ah, it was Ryan. Simone smiled. He was one of her favorites, definitely the Armani then, perhaps the Louboutins as well. Ryan had a good appreciation for the finer things in life. Simone tossed an extra smudge proof lipstick into her purse as an afterthought; she’d learned the last time Ryan was a very good kisser…among other things.<br />
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Simone’s phone buzzed, a text from Ryan: he would be taking her to the Four Seasons tonight, some new four Michelin star restaurant that was apparently all the buzz, then a live show afterwards. Simone smiled. Ryan was off to a good start. Still it was a marathon and not a sprint. But, no matter, even if he couldn’t finish the race, Simone had a dozen other eager men on speed dial who could. Tonight was going to be a good night.<br />
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Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-36038560526575331652015-04-29T10:13:00.000-07:002015-04-29T10:13:30.745-07:00Secretaries and Schemes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aSZcFh7mwgs/VUERMnlLT3I/AAAAAAAACLw/K-kt_Wdlezg/s1600/306_Secretaries_%26_Schemes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aSZcFh7mwgs/VUERMnlLT3I/AAAAAAAACLw/K-kt_Wdlezg/s1600/306_Secretaries_%26_Schemes.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a name='more'></a>Transcript: “There—perfect,” Minnie declared as she made the final adjustments to Mary’s sheer, sexy panties. “Damn, that ass is fine!”<br />
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Mary giggled and playfully wiggled her curvy tight bottom. “As is yours!”<br />
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It was true. Their temptatious backsides were equally luscious thanks to the identical synthskin bodysuits they both wore. In truth, Minnie and Mary aliases created by two extremely sly male con men, though nothing in their physical appearance would ever reveal them. With the help of their miraculously realistic bodysuits, both ‘girls’ possessed voluptuous goddess-like figures that could be mistaken for nothing but feminine: two perfectly hemispherical mounds on top and a seductive smooth flat front below. Their lifelike masks were equally as convincing, and the seams carefully hidden with an undetectable concealer.<br />
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Today was to be Mary’s first day as Mr. Vanning’s secretary and the pair had chosen the sheer panties to help make a lasting first impression. Minnie had quickly identified Mr. Vanning as the perfect mark after a few weeks working at the firm. Overworked, middle aged, and unhappily married, Mr. Vanning was just their type—lonely and with deep pockets. And Mary was just Mr. Vanning’s type too.<br />
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Figuring that out hadn’t been difficult. A quick study of Mr. Vanning’s browsing history had revealed all they needed to know. Mary, a shapely honeyed brunette with just the right touch of sensuality and grace, was the perfect emobdiment of irresistable temptation. Once in the office, a few “accidental” glimpses of Mary’s naughty attire beneath her proper pretense was sure to ignite the flame. Then, teasing him unrelentingly while still feigning innocence, Mary would “resist” Mr. Vanning’s before “succumbing” to their mutual desire. Thus would begin their affair and Mary would expertly milk Mr. Vanning for every penny he was worth, as she subtly manipulated him to shower her with lavish and expensive gifts. Then after Mary had sucked Mr. Vanning dry, the scheming duo would squeeze out one last drop. Giving a sobbing performance worthy of an Oscar, Mary would tearfully show Mr. Vanning the incriminating photos of their affair that had been “mailed” to her and the note demanding the outrageous sum of hush money. The affair would also end then, Mary expertly manipulating Mr. Vanning to call an end to it. <br />
<br />
Then careful to hide her smile behind a stream of waterworks, Mary would storm away and do exactly what Mr. Vanning requested, disappear. Mary and Minnie would be long gone by the time Mr. Vanning realized the blackmailer didn’t exist, having flown first class to an island in the South Pacific. At least, that’s the rumor the newly hired redheaded twins working for Mr. Grevers in Human Resources would tell you...<br />
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Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-82899370825784649132015-03-28T14:11:00.000-07:002015-03-28T14:11:45.903-07:00The Woman in White<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xX8XaUIwcqI/VHT6PXVBmuI/AAAAAAAACHg/sRB5-YSvLZY/s1600/302_The_Woman_in_White.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xX8XaUIwcqI/VHT6PXVBmuI/AAAAAAAACHg/sRB5-YSvLZY/s1600/302_The_Woman_in_White.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a name='more'></a>Transcript: A trickle of light business conversation, gossip, and laughter could be heard flowing over the artistic stone walls that surrounded the posh outdoor veranda. The clink of glasses was surely vintage champagne. James still wasn’t sure what he was doing here. Such a stylish soiree wasn’t really his scene. Still the chance to impress his boss and other company executives was too valuable an opportunity to pass up. James sighed as he approached the quiet entrance archway. Alex was nowhere to be seen. He and Alex had been friends for years. Out of desperation, James had asked Alex to attend the event with him as his plus one. Preferably, James would’ve brought a dazzling date, but that hadn’t worked out.<br />
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The chic blonde sitting by the front archway smiled and took her sunglasses off as he walked up. James returned the smile, but paid no further heed. “James!” an exasperated whisper James recognized as Alex’s voice called out behind him. For a moment, James was confused; there was no one else around but the blonde. She raised a familiar unamused eyebrow at James and suddenly he found himself both understanding and more confused by the situation at the same time. “Alex?”<br />
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“Well if you want to give it away, then sure.” Alex’s voice suddenly changed register, becoming sweet, bright, and melodic. “Or you could call me Kendall.”<br />
<br />
James opened his mouth to speak then hesitated, unsure of how to phrase his thoughts “I’m not sure I…how are you…you’re not actually…uh…”<br />
<br />
Kendall cracked a wry smile, “Just a little help from the glamour department, some high quality prosthetics, and plenty of hair extensions—took me a few hours. Oh, and a lot of duct tape.” Kendall gestured down below. “No one ever said being a woman was easy.”<br />
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James cocked his head quizzically at the last item, “Do I want to know?”<br />
<br />
“Probably not, but just know that you won’t have to worry if I pull a Marilyn Monroe.”<br />
<br />
“I see…” James actually didn’t. “So I suppose you’re my date?”<br />
<br />
Kendall slid gracefully off her perch and glided over elegantly atop her stylish heels, “Aww, you’re so smart babe,” she remarked with a candid smile and convincing mock sincerity.<br />
<br />
James couldn’t help but stare. With one arm wrapped delicately around his, and her head leaning gently on his shoulder, she was playing the role uncannily well. Kendall mistook his gaze for disapproval, “Oh come on, I can’t look that bad. This dress is a Marc Jacobs!”<br />
<br />
“Oh no, not at all!” James gathered himself, taking a deep breath, but still turning a bit red as he spoke, “No Kendall, you look absolutely stunning and your dress is very lovely.”<br />
<br />
“Aww really? Well if you like the dress, just wait till you see what I’m wearing under it!” Kendall beamed and teased before sauntering off through the archway entrance, beckoning at James playfully to follow. After everything he’d seen so far this afternoon, James wasn’t sure if Kendall was being serious or not. But he really kind of hoped she was.<br />
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Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-89875487450307479492015-01-31T14:52:00.000-08:002015-01-31T14:52:12.438-08:00Half Hour Act<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a name='more'></a>Transcript: Jesse gulped as he watched Jackson, a literal Greek Adonis, swagger into the room and ease into the bed, wearing nothing but a bath towel too small for his enormous frame. Jesse’s step-sister Monica was just putting the final touches on his appearance, fastening his sleek silk stockings to the tight sheer basque giving him his illusionary hourglass figure; it was the same outfit she’d caught him wearing a week ago.<br />
<br />
Monica leaned seductively close to Jesse’s ear and whispered so that only he could hear, “Remember the terms of our agreement, dear?”<br />
<br />
Jesse nodded, too petrified to speak. This was actually happening. If he could fool Jackson for at least thirty minutes, he was in the clear. Else if Jackson discovered that Jesse wasn’t quite the ‘girl’ he appeared to be, it would be quite literally his ass on the line. Monica could be a real sadist at times.<br />
<br />
That was the arrangement—Jesse’s punishment for getting caught. And to prepare for this evening, Jesse had done everything in his power to keep from getting caught again. Beginning with a generous hour-long bath with the most exquisite salts to make his skin as soft and supple as possible, the potent exfoliation cream he used afterwards had left his skin as smooth as silk. Applying the make-up had taken nearly twice as long. Though he was naturally gifted with a fine bone structure, it still took the skill of an expert artist to paint the delicate features that now graced his countenance. His cleavage was also a cleverly contoured illusion, made complete by savvy padding. Jesse had been careful to think through every detail. Not only were his artificial blonde hair extensions entirely natural in appearance, they were also firmly secured to withstand the zealous grip of a domineering lover. A carefully placed choker concealed the male projection in his neck while a much more complex and uncomfortable apparatus hid the other bulge down below. His dainty panties presented nothing but a perfectly smooth flat front. He’d even smeared a bit of lubricant down the front, giving the appearance of being wet. His façade was as perfect as it was going to get. Now it all depended on how well he could play the part.<br />
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At least his voice wouldn’t give him away. Jesse had spent hours making certain of that. Sure he was no Lauren Bacall, but his pitch and intonation were convincing enough. Just as a test, he’d auditioned for a phone sex company; they’d offered him the job. Still, a live in-person audience was a different matter.<br />
<br />
Half an hour. Jesse’s only chance to avoid being found out was to occupy Jackson’s full attention with tantalizing lingual tact, and he didn’t mean witty repartee.<br />
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Monica smirked as she turned to leave, “Don’t be so tense, Jesse. You’ll never fit him all the way between those pretty little lips of yours if you don’t relax your throat—especially considering how big he is...”<br />
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Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-73084736093409487202014-12-23T11:54:00.001-08:002014-12-23T11:54:27.124-08:00Long Nights (for Candy aka realfield)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CuorvBZVctw/VIJf8yiXQqI/AAAAAAAACJE/ynzeJQ5Q0lg/s1600/310_Long_Nights_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CuorvBZVctw/VIJf8yiXQqI/AAAAAAAACJE/ynzeJQ5Q0lg/s1600/310_Long_Nights_1.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a name='more'></a>Transcript: Tiffany was drawn to the jingle of the unbuckling of his pants—whoever he was—like a bee to honey. His hand against the back of her head, gripping her hair forcefully, and pulling her lips towards him was altogether unnecessary, but regardless, highly erotic. Tucked away and hidden from view, Tiffany’s little girlie cock was straining against her pretty lace panties, throbbing hard and sticky wet with pre-cum. Oh Master Slade would be very upset with her for ruining her panties, but she honestly couldn’t help it. He would probably make her lick them clean later and then spank her until her bum was bright red. Thinking about the possibility gave her tingles and only caused her to grow harder.<br />
<br />
Tiffany was already salivating. Her lips were eager and ready as she awaited, bound and blindfolded. This was what, her third or fourth cock tonight? Tiffany gagged briefly as the full length of the man’s cock being shoved down her throat took her by surprise. He was large, but not as large as Master Slade. Tiffany was slightly disappointed. She had hoped Master Slade would’ve grown tired of this play by now and exploit her talents personally. No matter, she was going to deep throat this man like the expert she was until the cum came explosively inside her mouth like water from a fire hydrant. Her record was seventeen seconds. She wondered if she could finish this one even faster. If she was lucky, perhaps the next cock to be stuck in her mouth would be one the she knew and loved most: her master’s.<br />
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There was no one else quite like Master Slade. He was the one who had groomed her to be the stunning creature she was today. Hard to believe she was ever once a man. By chance or by fate, Slade had discovered her secret crossdressing fetish several months ago and never relinquished his grip since. The transition from Carl to Tiffany had been gradual, but forceful.<br />
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It’d started with growing her hair out, while keeping the rest of her shaved completely smooth—then the potent hormones, feminizing surgeries, breast implants, and draconian behavioral training. Master Slade’s iron grip on her had been something she’d come to cherish. She loved the way Master Slade played with her like a doll, having his way whenever he pleased. She would’ve been powerless to resist even if she’d wanted to. He was so strong, so powerful. He could easily pin her down, spread her legs, and force his way inside her; he’d done so on many occasions. But now she was perfect. Tiffany took great pride in the fact that Master Slade enjoyed showing her off to his guests and showcasing her skills. There was no greater compliment.<br />
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Tiffany continued to slurp away, her tongue working dexterously along the shaft. Silently, she wondered if this was someone she knew. Last week, Master Slade had had her blow one of her former co-workers. She’d wondered if he’d recognized her. Tiffany’s heart rate spiked as she felt rough fingers sliding the blindfold off her eyes. The light was painful for a few moments as her eyes adjusted. She didn’t recognize the man in front of her, just another lucky party guest then.<br />
<br />
Tiffany locked her gaze on his and immediately she felt his thighs beginning to tense up; he was close to finishing. Tiffany wasn’t sure what it was about that desperate doe-eyed look, but it certainly drove men wild. Moments later his cock exploded its hot sticky load inside her hungry mouth like a geyser. A few drops dribbled down the side of her mouth. Like a fresh coat of lipstick, it gave her soft lips a welcome shine. Then as quickly as it had been lifted, the blindfold was replaced and once again she was left to wait. A few moments passed, then the hinges creaked, footsteps sounded, and then stopped. Who was next? Tiffany couldn’t wait to find out.<br />
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Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-993024390555058462014-12-16T10:22:00.000-08:002014-12-16T10:22:27.321-08:00A New Life (for Shannon)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-n1B2ZyK9OJQ/VIOidTnZ4fI/AAAAAAAACJc/iii-qyqLH84/s1600/311_A_New_Life_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-n1B2ZyK9OJQ/VIOidTnZ4fI/AAAAAAAACJc/iii-qyqLH84/s1600/311_A_New_Life_1.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a name='more'></a>Transcript: Wrong place, wrong time or right place, right time—it all
depended on your point of view. For Shane, a relatively young man in his
thirties with a promising career in science, it had been the bad luck pure and
simple. His whole life had been derailed like a hurtling freight train the
night he found himself front row seat to a mob hit and a one-way ticket into
the Witness Protection Service.<br />
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Due to the high profile nature of the case, Shane had been
immediately whisked away. The plan: to relocate him several hundred miles and
set him up with a false identity. As part of his cover, Shane was also to be
married; it would make discovering him more difficult. “Hey guys, I’ve got a
twist: I’m the wife!” Shane had joked with his WITSEC handlers at the time,
only they’d thought that was a brilliant idea. Who would ever suspect a woman,
especially one in a happy marriage, when they were looking for a man? Smitten
by curiosity, Shane had agreed. </div>
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The original arrangement was that all alterations to his
appearance would be reversible. This meant a whole bag of tricks. Luckily,
WITSEC had just the agent, Sara, who was a magician with makeup, for the job. Long
chestnut hair extensions provided the perfect frame in which Sara crafted and
contoured for him a convincingly feminine face. Then after a thorough
depilation, Sara had helped select and apply the correct set of special effects
prosthetics to give him a more voluptuous figure—softer features around the
hips, rear, and chest. The disguise had been entirely convincing, save for the
one vestige of maleness that remained, but even that had been quickly fixed
with a sudden push, a sharp tug, and about a foot of medical tape. Sara would
spend the better part of a month teaching Shannon, as she had decided to be
called now, how to transform herself. The glue on the prosthetics was
waterproof and would last at least a month between applications, but the makeup
had to be recreated daily. But just the physical appearance, even as intricate
as it was, had only been the half of it. Also part of Shannon’s feminization
curriculum had been how to move, talk, and act like a woman. It’d taken hours
of meticulous practice, but eventually Shannon had been able to get it down
pat—gliding across the floor in heels like a goddess, cooing seductive breathy
tones, and mastering feminine mannerisms like second nature. </div>
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To complete the façade, Shannon had also been assigned an
additional agent from the U.S. Marshall’s Service: a towering Greek God named
Dimitri, who was to pose as her husband. It’d been rather awkward at first.
Shannon may have looked like a true to Earth, honest to god woman, but despite all
appearances, she wasn’t one. Luckily, there was also much more to Dimitri than
his handsome rugged exterior, which Shannon had come to find rather appealing. He
was kind, gentle, and patient with her, looking after her like the perfect
loving husband. Dimitri claimed that it was only his job, but it was still
nice. To maintain their cover, Shannon and Dimitri had been expected to do
everything a normal married couple would: live together, eat together—even
sleep together, which due to practical reasons had been simulated. They were
bringing ‘faking it’ to a whole new level. The first few times, Shannon had
wanted to crawl into a hole and just die, but with practice, the husband-wife
role-play had become rather amusing. It was funny how red she could make
Dimitri turn in the bedroom with her exaggerated passionate moans and
over-the-top, dirty, kinky whispers. </div>
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At the start of it all, Shannon had assumed she would eventually
return to a more normal life, but after a few months, she wasn’t so sure. Despite
the arranged nature of the ‘marriage’, it had blossomed into a beautiful
friendship and being a woman had its perks: beauty, charm, and grace. Besides,
who didn’t enjoy being fawned over, pampered, and generally treated like a
princess? Following a short, but well thought out discussion with her WITSEC
handlers, it was decided. There would be no going back. Shannon was here to
stay. A few weeks later, the surgical bandages were unwrapped for the last time,
revealing nothing but a beautiful young woman. Thanks to an advanced therapy of
potent feminizing hormones and cutting edge procedures, Shannon no longer had
need for clever contouring or prosthetics. Playing with her new soft breasts,
you wouldn’t have believed they weren’t completely natural. There were no more
tricks. She was all girl now. She had a birth certificate to prove it and not
even a gynecologist could say otherwise! Or a romantic partner for that matter…</div>
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As long as Shannon kept up her dilator therapy for a few
more weeks, her surgically crafted pussy would be indistinguishable in tone and
elasticity from any other girl’s. Dimitri could certainly attest to that. Shannon
had ‘innocently’ roped him into assisting her with her dilator therapy. “I need
some help to perform these exercises properly,” she’d claimed. Totally false,
just like the ‘instruction sheet’ she’d given him; she’d written them. Suggestive
positions, provocative moans, and accidental brushes were all part of the game.
Watching Dimitri get all flustered, despite his best efforts to remain
professional, was just too much fun. He was like putty in her hands—save for
one part, one very important part. Shannon made every excuse she could to brush
up against his raging hard on, feeling it, savoring it, and teasing it. Not
that she needed to, it was hard as a rock and straight as an arrow and all just
for her. She could tell Dimitri was teetering on the edge of throwing
professionalism out the door. Perhaps all he needed was just a little push. “The
last dilator is too small. I need something bigger, something more filling.
Perhaps you might have something that could help?” She’d demurely suggested,
using every feminine charm and guile she knew to her advantage. “The agency did
send you here to take care of my every need didn’t they?” Shannon finished her proposal with a delicious
kiss. A brief second passed before Dimitri jerked her up by her thighs as if
she weighed nothing and ravished her like it was their wedding night. </div>
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Dimitri had fucked her good that night—like a thoroughbred
stallion—and every night since. Doctor’s orders she’d told him. They sure
weren’t simulating anything now. In truth, the dilator therapy had already
ended several days ago, but Dimitri didn’t need to know that. At least, not for
a while…</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-49979098533874422792014-12-04T11:08:00.000-08:002014-12-04T11:08:23.955-08:00Clocking Overtime (for Sara)<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Working late has never felt so good...</i></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZBiOqbqz6Nc/VHT3y71UotI/AAAAAAAACG0/naF2-W-TA2E/s1600/308_Clocking_Overtime_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZBiOqbqz6Nc/VHT3y71UotI/AAAAAAAACG0/naF2-W-TA2E/s1600/308_Clocking_Overtime_3.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9RnoxERopGw/VHT3z8syv7I/AAAAAAAACHA/YJgxiH_aqlc/s1600/308_Clocking_Overtime_4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9RnoxERopGw/VHT3z8syv7I/AAAAAAAACHA/YJgxiH_aqlc/s1600/308_Clocking_Overtime_4.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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Transcript: It was happening again. Even though it happened at the end
of nearly every workday, it still managed to come as a surprise. Sara could
feel John’s strong hands squeezing and caressing her exposed derriere. Calling
her into his office, John had simply bent her over his desk like a plaything
and ripped her skirt down forcefully. Sara squirmed futilely beneath John’s
rough grip; there was no escape. Her resistance however did earn her a hard
spank. John grinned and Sara yelped, his large hand leaving a bright red brand.<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Just a few months ago, Sara had been a junior executive in
the company named Jay, until his scheming devious bitch of a secretary Devon
manufactured a very compromising situation to blackmail him with. Officially,
Jay was on vacation and John was his temporary stand-in, but in actuality Devon
was the one in charge. As commanding as John was, John was only merely Devon’s
obedient puppet. And with Devon holding all the cards, Jay too was powerless to
defy any of Devon’s whims. Whatever Devon wanted, Devon got.</div>
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<br /></div>
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At first, Devon had kept up a façade of normality, still sitting
at her desk out front playing secretary. She merely instructed Jay to let his
hair grow out and keep the rest of his body shaved. Daily inspections ensured
compliance. Then came the “vitamin pills”—feminizing hormones. Jay had tried to
dupe Devon in the beginning by taking fake sugar ones instead, but somehow she
always knew and would punish him with an aggressive double dose for several
days after. Around the same time, Devon had had him start making personal trips
to buy lingerie from brand name stores. The next day Jay would be expected to
wear his purchases underneath his suit. It started with just panties—soft
cotton, then cool satin, and eventually sexy lace—but soon Devon had him
dressed to the nines: silk stockings, matching garter belts and bras, corsets,
and basques. After work, Jay was to completely become Sara, full makeup, hair
extensions, dress and all. Laborious at first, it wasn’t long before surgical
implants replaced breast prosthetics and the course of Mother Nature as
influenced by powerful feminizing hormones eliminated the need for shape wear. </div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
After several weeks, Devon ordered him to come into the
office completely dressed as a woman. Sara was to be John’s secretary. It had
been a humiliating affair, walking in through the front doors past everyone who
once knew Jay. Sara had earned her first spanking that day, for not looking
pretty and feminine enough. It was a lesson she hadn’t forgotten; she hadn’t
been able to sit for days afterwards. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Private meetings with John in his office, a disguise for
daily inspections among other things, became common. Sometimes Devon would be
present and give Sara demeaning tasks, or punishments for failing to complete
previously assigned duties personally. One time, Devon had had Sara stripped
and blindfolded, then throat fucked by what seemed like an endless slew of
cocks—long, wide, big, and bigger—in the office break room for hours. If Sara
so much as let a drop of cum go to waste, Devon made her lick it off the floor
and then beg for more. </div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Occasionally, if Sara had performed exceptionally well,
Devon would allow Sara a small reward, usually permission to touch herself for
a few minutes, but never to cum. Though Sara was getting fucked almost daily, Devon
hadn’t allowed Sara to cum for months now. Playing with her girlie cock was
strictly forbidden; it wasn’t lady-like Devon had said. Instead, Sara’s girlie
cock remained neatly tucked at nearly all times, staining the front of her
panties with sticky pre-cum. Sara had made the mistake of thinking she could
get away with secretly relieving herself once, but Devon had found out and
forced her to wear a remote-controlled vibrating panty, keeping her on the edge
for days. The constant promise but denial of pleasure had been excruciating. Sara
hadn’t been able to bear standing straight for days afterwards due to the
agonizing pain from her blue balls. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today, John was in an unusually playful mood. He was
prolonging the groping and spanking. Sara winced with each sharp hit, but
inwardly relished John’s attention. By now, her appearance was near perfect and
John had certainly begun to notice. Sara was careful not to let on, but
secretly she took great pleasure in the fact that John was fully hard for her. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sara pretended to whimper while wiggling her perky ass
subtly. She wanted John to want her without letting him know that she did. It
worked. John picked Sara up and flipped her over. He was so large, so strong,
he could have her anyway he wanted. Sara writhed beneath his grip. It was
powerful, unrelenting, and domineering. Part of Sara wanted to be slip away
from his grasp, but a stronger part wanted to taken. Sara gasped as John spread
her bottom cheeks and entered her, not gently or tenderly, but possessively. With
no regard to her groans, John took her as he pleased. Her ass was his and he
wanted her to know it. But this time it was different. Sara could tell.
This—John’s desire—was genuine. It was true raw carnal lust. John wasn’t just
following Devon’s orders. He wanted this, her. And she wanted him. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Sara tilted her hips to allow him in deeper, moaning as she invited
and took him in all the way. John increased his thrusts in vigor, faster and
faster, harder and harder, until his hot sticky seed erupted inside her,
filling her ass with fresh cream. The unexpected sensation was erotically
satisfying, sending Sara over the edge and causing her own girlie cock to spurt
a huge explosive mess—months of pressure—all over the stomach and breasts. Sara
was glad it was already after hours, so that no one would be around to hear her
screams of pleasure. </div>
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Sara’s chest was still heaving as John gently slid out of
her, completely spent. Oh my god, that earth shattering orgasm had felt so
good. She had almost forgotten how heavenly a climax could be. Then came the
fear as she realized what had just occurred. If John reported this to Devon…Sara
watched John’s face attentively as she anxiously awaited a reaction.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
John finally spoke as he turned to leave, “Good work today,
Sara. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll need you to stay late again. I hope you don’t
mind.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As if she had a choice. It wasn’t really a request. But Sara
didn’t mind. Sara definitely didn’t mind. </div>
<!--EndFragment-->Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-39555712583029281712014-11-27T22:21:00.000-08:002014-11-27T22:21:15.559-08:00Midnight Huntress (for Sammie)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-u1dvTwHrQU8/VHT5PIVTnPI/AAAAAAAACHY/iCmPGqyQe9Y/s1600/301_Midnight_Huntress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-u1dvTwHrQU8/VHT5PIVTnPI/AAAAAAAACHY/iCmPGqyQe9Y/s1600/301_Midnight_Huntress.jpg" height="172" width="320" /></a></div>
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Transcript: “Hey Sammie, Boss Vitti’s boys just spotted Joey Malone at 42nd and La Rue. They want you to handle the snatch.” George continued to relay information as it was communicated over the secure phone line.<br />
<br />
Sammie’s perfectly manicured fingers pressed lightly on the concealed clips securing her blonde wig as she gave her appearance one last check. Truth be told, Sammie was a natural red, but Joey Malone was known to be quite fond of bombshell blondes and Sammie intended to exploit every advantage. Ironically, the golden tresses were only a relatively minor deception.<br />
<br />
Legally, Sammie didn’t exist. In fact, she wasn’t even female. Her real name was Nate, but only George, a long time personal friend and now business partner, knew that. It was amazing what a little cosmetic skill, assistance from staunch shapewear, and sly knowhow could do for a ‘girl’. Even stripped down to her knickers, no man would ever suspect her of anything. Sammie grinned craftily and giggled. The Mayor certainly hadn’t! Oh my, had that been a fun night!<br />
<br />
“42nd and La Rue?” Sammie asked to no one in particular as she dabbed just enough perfume behind her ears and on her wrists to yield a subtle but irresistible temptation. Her practiced femme voice was a rich melody of dulcet tones and spine tingling notes that even a Greek siren would envy. “I know exactly which joint Malone’s going to. Tell Vitti he’ll have Malone before midnight.” There was no hesitation in Sammie’s claim. She would have Malone begging to be wrapped around her little finger and willing to fulfill her every whim within an hour. The other two hours were merely for toying with her prey.<br />
<br />
The night was young and the game was afoot. Let the hunt begin. <br />
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Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-90417748024673946392014-09-23T14:13:00.000-07:002014-09-23T14:13:29.784-07:00Temporary Hiatus - An Update From Kendall<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aAvHPDaTOps/VCHfSnHjSsI/AAAAAAAACGc/KMU2Hp2-nmU/s1600/tumblr_n9avsukfv51s3a9q6o1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aAvHPDaTOps/VCHfSnHjSsI/AAAAAAAACGc/KMU2Hp2-nmU/s1600/tumblr_n9avsukfv51s3a9q6o1_1280.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
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<div>
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<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;">Let me preface this post by saying, this isn't goodbye, but it may be a while before I post anything else again. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;">Some of you know this already, but I actually haven't written a caption since March. Everything I've posted since then was previously written and slowly time-released. For any of you that inspect the file names of my captions, you may notice that they are quite out of order. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;">Anyways, the short story is, I've been very busy as of late. I've actually spent the last several weeks writing non-stop--unfortunately, not captions, but still important work. Before that, I was busy with other work. As much as I love captioning, it's not my career and I've needed to focus my energies on my eventual life trajectory. Currently, I have a brief reprieve, but I'm not sure if more writing is exactly what I'd like to be doing right now. Remember how I said I've spent the last several weeks writing non-stop? Well I have over 100 essays to show for it. I'm planning to spend some more time outside, with friends, and engaging in physical activity now that that's almost over. However, if all goes well, I'll be quite busy for a long time to come. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;">The other difficulty I've been facing is that last spring I transitioned to a new computer. My old one bogged out. Bugger. So my new computer is all fancy smancy and awesome, but it doesn't have Photoshop which I used to use to make my captions. I've tried using GIMP, but quite frankly, it's not the same and I'm not quite up to learning a whole new program. So that's also put a bit of a wrench in abilities to output captions even if I wanted to. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;">So until I can get a little more time and get back all my tools, I probably won't be making anymore captions for awhile. It's funny, because I'll see a picture sometimes and have a great idea for it, but I just don't have the resources to turn it into a caption anymore. I'm not sure how long this dry spell will be, but I definitely don't intend on leaving forever. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;">To everyone that's read and been reading my captions, I thank you. Especially those of you who leave lovely comments (*cough* Miss Simone *cough*), it's been really great reading all of them and I always appreciate the feedback. They really make my day. Hopefully I'll be able to reconnect with all of you once I'm back to full production.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
With love,</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Kendall</div>
Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-88650170030435395882014-09-09T18:21:00.000-07:002014-09-09T18:21:53.360-07:00Always Ready<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>How much of the performance is an act? How much of the look is a costume?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nHeOUl0AtZA/Uoq5thDqkLI/AAAAAAAABnI/53wij4yLWyM/s1600/228_Always_Ready.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nHeOUl0AtZA/Uoq5thDqkLI/AAAAAAAABnI/53wij4yLWyM/s1600/228_Always_Ready.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a name='more'></a><div style="text-align: left;">
Written purposely a little more ambiguous, I'll leave the details of this one to your imagination.</div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
Transcript: In the solitude of her private dressing room, the lavish pop star sought seclusion from the overwhelming ardor of her adoring fans. Though she had long since made her exit, the crowd’s rhythmic chants could still be felt resonating deep throughout the arena's underground. The star paused for moment to take in a deep breath. The show had been spectacular, every bit as glitzy and glamorous as her rhinestone studded leotard, but now it was time to slip out of her costume and call it a night. <br />
<br />
Reaching back beneath her silky blonde locks, the star found the seam that had been oh so carefully concealed. Delicately peeling back the layers, the star’s energetic, youthful expression melted into apathy whilst her vibrant blue eyes grew lifeless, and then dark. The rest of her salacious figure was likewise shed until all that remained was a barren bodysuit—now a poor imitation of the pop star’s likeness—and an unrecognizable shadow. With great care, the new individual left the bodysuit to hang freely in the closet before departing, faithfully ensuring that ‘the pop star’ would be ready the next time ‘she’ was needed. </div>
Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-55567945075103191122014-08-28T13:00:00.000-07:002014-08-28T13:00:47.980-07:00The Best Kind of Sister<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Anna's sorority sisters are determined to find out the truth about her!</i></div>
<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y6_z-4nlr-g/UyTLbcMerZI/AAAAAAAAB-o/tB1RkXmcoOc/s1600/292_The_Best_Kind_of_Sister_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y6_z-4nlr-g/UyTLbcMerZI/AAAAAAAAB-o/tB1RkXmcoOc/s1600/292_The_Best_Kind_of_Sister_1.jpg" height="320" width="256" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ahkh6noEBGE/UyTLbs3hpeI/AAAAAAAAB-s/NA4fOaWpG4o/s1600/292_The_Best_Kind_of_Sister_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ahkh6noEBGE/UyTLbs3hpeI/AAAAAAAAB-s/NA4fOaWpG4o/s1600/292_The_Best_Kind_of_Sister_3.jpg" height="320" width="256" /></a></div>
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<a name='more'></a>Transcript: “So is it true?” Tiffany asked Anna eagerly, as Lauren looked
on with equal anticipation. They’d finally cornered Anna and now they intended
on getting the truth about their youngest sorority sister one way or another!<br />
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“What’s true?” Anna replied, trying to play dumb. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oh you know,” Tiffany responded as Lauren gestured
crudely with her hands, “that you have a little something extra down there—or
not so little from what I hear…”</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Anna tried not to let her surprise show. How had they
heard!? Or the better question, how had she been found out? As far as she knew,
no one, not even the boys she’d dated—including even the few that she’d enjoyed
some intimacy with—had ever shown any signs of suspicion regarding her true
sex, but somehow her big and grandbig had caught wind of it, and through the
grapevine no less! Anna tried not to think of what might happen to her if they
were able to find hard evidence, especially since the three of them shared a
room in the sorority house. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Trapped between Lauren’s well toned body and Tiffany’s keen
hands, Anna could do nothing as Tiffany’s adventurous fingers wandered up her
sensitive inner thigh. Anna tried to distract herself, doing her calculus
homework in her head, but it was already too late; she could feel her cock
beginning to stir and breaking free from its soft cotton prison. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Ooh, I think it <i>is</i>
true,” Lauren murmured excitedly as she noticed the tent raising itself in the
middle of Anna’s dress. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
With a sparkle in her eye, Tiffany slowly lifted the hem
of Anna’s dress until Anna’s cock, which stood tall and proud much to Anna’s
embarrassment, was entirely visible for all three to see. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You bitch!” Tiffany screamed, as Anna braced herself for
the worst. “You’ve been holding out on us this whole time—Lauren and I have
been using strap-ons when you’ve had <i>that</i>
all along—and keeping <i>that</i> gorgeous
thing all to <i>yourself</i>!?”</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
This time Anna couldn’t hide her surprise, but the
accusations weren’t <i>entirely </i>true. Anna
hadn’t touched herself since moving into the house, even though she’d
definitely wanted to, for of fear of being caught, so technically she hadn’t
really been holding out on them. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“She’s so big!” Lauren marveled, wide eyed. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I know,” Tiffany agreed as her delicate hands wrapped
themselves around the base of Anna’s throbbing shaft. “She’s much bigger than
Thomas, the Sigma Pi stud, and he’s already seven inches…”</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The girls were practically salivating. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“So you’re not mad then?” Anna asked quizzically. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Only mad that you didn’t share,” Tiffany cooed as she
licked her lips, “but I think I know how you can make it up to us…”</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Anna thought for a moment and then nodded. “Don’t worry,
I will. I’ll even wash the sheets after…” </div>
Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-42759935340247433222014-08-21T16:38:00.000-07:002014-08-21T16:38:47.080-07:00On the Prowl<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Be wary, her eyes will eat you right up...</i></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-i6_fZSikWeM/Uy9C56aascI/AAAAAAAACCA/rfhYTNbRl2c/s1600/300_On_the_Prowl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-i6_fZSikWeM/Uy9C56aascI/AAAAAAAACCA/rfhYTNbRl2c/s1600/300_On_the_Prowl.jpg" height="186" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a name='more'></a>Transcript: Tim struck a pose as he studied the reflection in the mirror
that was not his own: ‘Aunt Jessica’ looked as fabulous as ever, as she should.
The impeccable mask and bodysuit he’d made weeks ago never failed to please and
with hours of study and mimicry under his belt, Tim’s impersonation of Aunt
Jessica looked as natural as blue skies on a sunny day. The clothes, of course,
were also authentic. Tim had taken the liberty of ‘borrowing’ a few things form
Aunt Jessica’s wardrobe the last time she’d visited.<br />
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Surprisingly, the leopard print blouse had been far from
the most exotic item Tim had found in her suitcase. The electrifying black lace
lingerie he was wearing underneath felt almost as sinfully exquisite as it
appeared. Despite Aunt Jessica’s more mature age, she had only become finer
with her years, like an expensive wine. Many a man still found their words
caught in their throats after catching a glimpse of her. Besides, she was still
as youthful and energetic as ever where it counted. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Giving himself one last look over, Tim grabbed the elegant
leather purse on the table, also courtesy of Aunt Jessica, complete with her ID
and credit cards, and found her lipstick. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Can’t go around kissing the boys without leaving a
little evidence behind now can we?” Tim cooed, mimicking Aunt Jessica’s deep
husky tones perfectly. ‘She’ always did like to leave a little something behind
on the men she seduced, a bit like a great cat marking its territory and making
its claims.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
There, perfect. Then, grabbing an assortment of condoms, ‘Jessica’
carefully tucked them away in her purse—she didn’t want to give any of the boys
the wrong idea about just what kind of woman she was, but you never knew what
might happen on a night out on the town! Of course, they weren’t really necessary,
since she couldn’t actually get pregnant, but it was always fun to keep up the façade! </div>
Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-5340573884924242152014-08-15T22:43:00.000-07:002014-08-15T22:43:30.790-07:00Girls Will Be Girls<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>There is much more to this pair than it would seem...</i></div>
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<a name='more'></a>Transcript: “Mmm, oh my god, yes Marie! I want you to shove your
enormous cock all the way up my tight wet pussy! All the way in, yes, YES!” Denise
screamed in ecstasy as her trembling fingers clenched the sheets, her French tipped
nails nearly piercing the expensive silk.<br />
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<br /></div>
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“Shh, not so loud!” Marie whispered loudly as she quieted
her lover with a kiss, “your husband thinks you’re showing off to me the new
dresses he bought you yesterday.”</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“So he <i>thinks</i>,”
Denise replied with a smile. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Marie and Denise simply looked at each other and just giggled.
If only Denise’s husband knew what they were actually up to he would be
furious! Especially once he found out that Marie was actually Denise’s long
time lover Sam in disguise. Denise’s husband was a very jealous man you see, in
addition to also being very rich and powerful, and had forbade Denise to
entertain any male company out of fear of infidelity, so Sam had had to adopt
the guise of a demure, ravishing woman, whose femininity was beyond a shadow of
a doubt. A cleverly arranged wardrobe malfunction and deceptively lifelike
prosthetic had seen to that: completely shaven, the thin slit had been
obviously visible, even in the dim light. The breast forms Marie used regularly
were also just as convincing. Self-adhesive, the seams could be concealed with
a little makeup, leaving no trace that she’d been ever born without them. They were even warm to the touch—capable of
absorbing and retaining body heat, which was why Marie never presented herself
before having at least worn them for a half hour, ensuring their credibility to
the inadvertent and sometimes intentional touch. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I’m going to have a lot of trouble looking at you Sam
without imagining Marie when we finally make our getaway and stop all this
pretending,” Denise lamented. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oh and is that such a bad thing? I dare say I’ve never
felt you wetter,” Marie replied.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“No, but I’m not sure things will ever go back to the way
they were,” Denise confessed with a wistful look in her eyes. Marie understood
what Denise meant. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Then why go back? Why imagine? When you can have the
real thing? I’ve actually quite enjoyed being Marie and I’ve given it some
thought: perhaps this could be a permanent change, even when it’s no longer
necessary. Oh it’ll cause scandals of course, two beautiful women living
together, but that’s never stopped us before has it? So what do you say
darling? Does that sound like a plan?”</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Denise used one arm to pull Marie in for another charged
passionate kiss while she used her other to push Marie even deeper inside of
her. That was a yes then. </div>
Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-46748298279410893472014-08-09T11:25:00.000-07:002014-08-09T11:25:42.749-07:00Leave No Doubt (GIF)<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>This blonde bombshell is far more cunning than she'll lead you to believe...</i></div>
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<a name='more'></a>Transcript: The flurry of shutter clicks drowned out all other cacophonous
requests for comments as Kendall scotched out of her luxury limousine. She
pretended not to notice her dress sliding up, much further than it ought to be
ladylike, exposing her shaved intimate treasure for the ever opportunistic paparazzi—and
no doubt the entire world once the photos appeared in the tabloids tomorrow—to see.<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It would seem like a careless mishap: “Wardrobe
Malfunction” the headlines would read. But it was actually all a carefully
calculated stunt. Ever since an unfortunate, but thankfully undocumented catastrophe,
it had been rumored among some circles that Hollywood’s newest and hottest
leading lady was not a lady at all, but a man! The rumors were true. Kendall
hadn’t actually been born a woman and still had her boy parts, but the public
didn’t need to know. So with the help of an extremely convincing prosthetic
faux pussy—which was really nothing more than a meticulously crafted, custom
made, silicone panty, complete with an entirely functional and lifelike vagina
molded in—and some viral publicity, Kendall intended on silencing her accusers
once and for all. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
But that wasn’t all she intended on using it for. She
planned on wearing it to bed this evening for her date with Brett. A tall drink
of water by any woman’s standards, Brett was her frequent romantic costar
onscreen and equally passionate lover off. She had already trusted him with her
secret, so she knew he wouldn’t be fooled, but pretending to be a genetic girl
in the bedroom ought to be plenty of fun. Who knows? Somehow, someone might
even leak a sex tape of Kendall and Brett onto the internet…</div>
Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-4366920881856123002014-08-04T19:24:00.001-07:002014-08-04T19:24:17.583-07:00Evening Enchantress (for Simone)<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Just who is she really? Or the better question: what is she?</i></div>
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<br />
<a name='more'></a>So I wrote this one a long time ago, but never got around to posting it. Oops.<br />
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This cap was inspired by the character Lorelei from an episode of Marvel's Agents of SHIELD I watched recently. Basically, she has the power to control men with just a touch. I thought it would make an interesting story. Also, since I decided to make Simone into a supernatural being, I thought giving her other powers, such as shapeshifting would be fun as well, since I quite enjoy the power but rarely have a chance to use it in any caption. As usual, I was once again unable to resist including myself in there at the end. How could I not? Simone's just such a seductive siren!<br />
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<br />
Transcript: Mysterious, bewitching, stunning—these were only a few of
the flattering terms her previous lovers had used to describe Simone. Even
those who had never seen her had heard of the legendary good looks and reputed
sexual finesse of the historic Van Morgan mansion’s mysterious occupant, if not
much else.<br />
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Some speculated that Mistress Simone, as she was more
commonly known, was the eccentric daughter of some wealthy family, while others
had postulated that she was the direct descendent of the original mistress of
the mansion herself. Still there were others who believed that she might be an
ice-cold covert government operative or even a witch! The rumors were all
false, though the truth was no less fantastic.</div>
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In actuality, Simone was no mortal woman. Secretively, she
belonged to a long line of fempires: a vampiric subset who fed not upon blood,
but the male essence. All those infected became gorgeous, irresistible women,
regardless of their previous sex, if they survived the initial transformation. Ancient
and powerful, Simone was among the eldest of her kind. Turned by an old lover
long ago to save her from what modern historians now called the Plague, her
life as Mark was but a faded memory. And though her rebirth had snatched her
from the jaws of death and granted her unnatural longevity, qualities, and
youth, her salvation had not come without its price: her need to feed, which
involved seducing unsuspecting men, for which she quickly found her new form
was not ill equipped. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Among the many new attributes Simone had acquired was the
ability to control a man with just a single spellbinding touch. Nowadays, it
was a power she rarely used, if ever. She had no need. Simone possessed far
more amusing ways of wrapping even the strongest alpha males around her little
finger, tighter than the fishnets around her long luscious legs, than simple
magic. Unlike some of her fellow fempires though, Simone took care not to
permanently damage her boy toys, taking only what she needed from and nothing
more. She saw no reason to cut down the whole tree for a piece of fruit. </div>
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Simone’s ability to shapeshift however had proven
invaluable. It’d started as the ability to slightly lighten or darken her hair,
change the color of her eyes, or make slight adjustments to her physique, but
with a couple hundred years of practice, Simone had learned how to alter her
form and identity at will—an essential skill, given the fact that one could
only be young for so long without arousing suspicion. Several years as a lady
in waiting to Marie Antoinette in the French royal court, twenty as a demure
Southern belle in antebellum Virginia, ten as a temptatious free spirit in the
decade of love—it was difficult to keep track of how many lives she’d led;
there was always room for sensuous elegance at the epicenter of the times.</div>
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A string of loud, unladylike curses interrupted her
reminiscing. Simone looked up, mildly amused, to see Kendall, a relatively
recent convert she’d taken under her wing, stumbling into the room on
skyscraper heels and fumbling obnoxiously with a black satin corset. Simone
watched for a few seconds, then gestured silently for Kendall to come over.
Within a couple minutes, Simone’s dexterous hands had had the classic piece of
shapewear, one she herself had often worn in the past, completely laced up
around Kendall’s lithe frame. Simone ordered Kendall to give her a turnaround
and nodded her approval as Kendall finished with a curtsey. A flirtatious fresh-faced
redhead, Kendall was certain to attract plenty of attention in the salacious
yet stylish outfit Simone had picked out for her for the evening, which was
precisely what they both wanted. </div>
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Tonight, the two of them were hitting the clubs and they
weren’t coming back until they each had a handsome, well muscled, and hopefully
well hung stud in tow—two if they were feeling particularly famished. It
wouldn’t be hard. Men practically climbed over each other usually just to buy
them drinks. There would be little sleep in the Van Morgan mansion tonight.
Though their male lovers would be too drained to continue after a few bouts,
Simone knew that Kendall’s deft darting tongue, which was arguably even
better—Simone had instructed her personally after all—would lap away far into the
night. Only after Kendall had proved her worth as a student would the goddess
and her consort drift away together into gentle slumbers, until the night
called once again. </div>
Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-27690683346797391442014-07-28T16:01:00.000-07:002014-07-28T16:01:48.947-07:00Girls Just Wanna Have Fun<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Getting in trouble might be more fun than they thought...</i></div>
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Transcript: Thwack! </div>
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“Do I make myself clear?”</div>
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“Yes, Mistress,” Becky whimpered to the domineering
Amazon delivering her punishment, while her compatriots looked on with
trepidation; they would be next. A statuesque, ice cold blonde, Headmistress
Frisoli would’ve been described as bewitching had she not been so intimidating.</div>
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“There is to be absolutely no cock sucking or fondling of
the other ‘girls’ in this school, especially on the cheer squad! What do you suppose
would’ve happened if the football team had walked in on you ‘girls’ instead of
me? Their meetings are scheduled shortly after yours in the gym!”</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The girls all stared sheepishly at the floor. Now
probably wasn’t a good time to tell Headmistress Frisoli that that was exactly
what they had been hoping for. </div>
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You ‘girls’, in your short skirts and tight tops are
supposed to be models of femininity—every teenage boy’s wet dream! Now tell me,
where does playing with each other’s cocks appear in that fantasy? Consider
yourselves lucky, the next time I catch you girls sucking each other off I’ll
lock your precious little cocks up for a week. Is that understood?” </div>
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“Yes, Mistress,” the girls replied in unison. </div>
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“Good. Now lock the door,” Headmistress Frisoli ordered
as she closed the blinds, hiked up her skirt, and pulled aside her panties to
reveal a magnificent nine inch member of her own, “and show me what you girls
have learned.”</div>
Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-22240290526801277062014-07-24T11:38:00.001-07:002014-07-24T11:38:53.384-07:00In Plain View<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Nate has just pulled off the biggest con of his life, but it'll soon be surpassed by his next...</i></div>
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<a name='more'></a>Transcript: It’d taken exquisite skill, bold daring, and sheer luck to pull it off, but Nate had pulled off one of the biggest cons of the twenty first century, double crossed his partners, and walked away with it all, three and a half billion dollars richer. Now it was just a matter of seeing if he would live long enough to spend it. He’d made a lot of enemies in one day. None of them would spare any expense in hunting him down, but you couldn’t catch what you couldn’t find. <br />
<br />
While all his enemies were busy scouring the horizon for a man on the run, Nate would be hiding beneath their noses, as a woman. Nate had dabbled with cross dressing in his younger days—an exotic fetish of a particularly kinky ex girlfriend—so he knew from experience that he could make quite the convincing woman. He wouldn’t have the help of a girlfriend this time, but he did have three and a half billion dollars, which was almost just as good. <br />
<br />
In preparation for his treachery, Nate had already purchased a number of exotic items, some of which he had already started putting to good use. First, there were the several fine lace-front wigs—a girl had to vary her look after all—that would provide credible illusions until his hair grew out and the mountains of makeup he would undoubtedly become very familiar with before this was all over. Next was an intricately hand-crafted pair of self adhering breast forms, capable of perfectly mimicking the look, feel, and weight of an real woman’s breasts. They were magnificent. Not even a plastic surgeon could’ve crafted a finer shape. But the crowning jewel of the entire façade was the special vaginal panty. Painstakingly sculpted and wholly undetectable, it could make anyone believe that he was a genetic girl. Of course, Nate had also included plenty of dresses, heels, and lingerie too. He’d need them for his new job. <br />
<br />
In a couple hours, Nate would be starting at Luiza’s Kitty Cabana as their newest dancer, Trixie. Located right at the heart of the whole fiasco, it was the perfect vantage point from which to follow his own manhunt. His enemies would never think to look under their own noses and even if they did, who would believe the tantalizing vixen barring it all on the stage could be him? Besides, he’d heard about what the other dancers did between curtain calls and he was very much looking forward to joining them for a little girlish fun…<br />
<br />Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202304935616932303.post-77341071441818982072014-07-20T12:31:00.000-07:002014-07-20T12:31:18.139-07:00Sedulous Sugarbaby<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do...</i></div>
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<a name='more'></a>Transcript: Some people are just lucky. Born with a silver spoon or gifted with winning a genetic lottery, they barely have to ask to get whatever they want. I on the other hand have had to work my ass off for whatever I got.<br />
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Paying for school is expensive enough. Tack on the added cost of basic living expenses and that leaves little extra, usually none, for anything else, including clothes, especially when you’re trying to maintain two separate wardrobes. I should explain. To put it simply, I’m a crossdresser. I enjoy getting glamorously dolled up from time to time and prowling the night as my female alter-ego, Daniella. Over the years, I’ve gotten pretty good at it too. I even have my own pair of deceptively realistic self-adhesive silicone breasts. Most of the guys I meet have no clue what I really am. It’s all good fun, but Daniella was always only a money sink until I met Harry. <br />
<br />
Another regular at a nightclub I often frequented, our arrangement began the night I, in an attempt to ward of Harry’s advances, began ranting to him about my financial woes. Don’t get me wrong, I usually enjoy getting hit on, I just wasn’t in the mood that night for empty sweet talk and cheesy pickup lines. One look at the suave, over-confident youngster being fawned over by a dozen half-clothed tramps and comfortably dressed in a slick Forzieri shirt and Edward Green shoes, and I took an immediate disliking to him. Harry had the air or a rich, arrogant, and rude playboy about him, the combination of which being something I abhorred. I wasn’t that far off either, so I paid him little attention until he proposed. <br />
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No, not marriage. Turns out he knew about me, and I mean really knew about me, and had a thing for pretty little traps like yours truly. He offered to be my sugar daddy, paying for everything: tuition and rent for starters—flashy dresses, cheeky skirts, and to-die-for shoes, the finest cosmetics, scintillating lingerie, diamonds, pearls, and whatever else my little heart desired. All for a small little price. How could I say no?<br />
<br />
I handed him a wish list that night of all the things I could think of at the moment. At the top? Lube, and plenty of it. Like I said, I work my ass off for what I have. <br />
<br />Kendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14235485431933509101noreply@blogger.com3